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Literature Text
a seed, that cannot grow
what shall its fortune be then
to feed the lurking crow?
February '12
what shall its fortune be then
to feed the lurking crow?
February '12
Literature
Just me
Sparkling lights. Twinkling eyes. Her golden hair wrapped around her neck like a warm scarf. A gentle breeze would've been enough to knock me over in this moment. My throat was clogged with unspoken words and wishes. The night had only just begun and yet it felt like an eternity.
"Come with me" she whispered. A siren couldn't have been more convincing.
We walked through the dusk soaked town. Past the maroon painted bridge, past the cars with their blinding lights. My body was above water but I felt drowned. Muffled sounds of logic echoed and blurred visions of rationality desperately appeared before me. I couldn't understand them. Her cool
Literature
A new spring poem
Flowers fall to where snow once stood, blowing with cool gale upon a sailors' new sail. Spring returns, a promise that burns with glorious spurs for all, even curs.
Enjoy these days that are fast retreating, for they go with the wind ever fleeting. Like the flower the blooms on the withered tree, so to will you see nature's sweet mystery.
Literature
more haiku
the pendulum swings
and another hour of life
is gone forever.
it is not disdain
that shields my heart from you love -
rather, it is fear.
go, go, godzilla!
rampaging, spread chaos, and
leave fear in your wake.
the gravel road leads
to a place I cannot see
except in my heart.
failure.
long has it stalked me
and now moves to kill.
dragonflies
hum through the air
their wings a chorus.
broken stones
a dry and water-less land.
home - or a grave?
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the fear of being swallowed by emptiness, when one finds oneself unable to serve the purpose they feel they were made for
q: I'm not sure about the last line. how does it sound to you?
q: I'm not sure about the last line. how does it sound to you?
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What a thought.